


A Transition

by MolollyWrites



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, Gen, Oath of Vengeance, Oath of the Ancients, Oaths & Vows, Paladin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22190938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MolollyWrites/pseuds/MolollyWrites
Summary: After the main campaign, Vero struggles balancing the new direction his life is taking with the Oath he swore as a young man. A Vengeance Paladin with no drive for vengeance simply, in his mind, is no longer worthy of the mantle. As such, he ventures to the newly restored temple of his gods to discuss his options…
Kudos: 1





	A Transition

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The god ‘Tyr’ is written here as having two forms, those of Justice (known as Tyrion from his time spent as a mortal) and Vengeance (envisioned as a suit of black plate mail). This is to reflect the canon of Vero’s campaign setting.

It was a quiet evening. Snow was softly falling on the steps up to the temple district, and Vero pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders. He was unarmoured, but not unarmed, as his Avenger sat hilted at his waist, tapping gently against his thigh as he climbed the steps. The newly restored temple to Tyr was located at the far end of the district.

As he passed the still-decrepit temple with Mask’s sigil above the door, Vero slowed his pace. He paused, looking up at the cracked symbol, and frowned. He bent at the knee, leaving a single gold piece on the crumbling steps, before continuing on his way.

Reaching Tyr’s temple, he shook the snow from his hair and entered, nodding solemnly at the cleric who greeted him at the door; a young wood elf girl, no older than 100, dressed in comfortable priests robes. 

“Good evening, Mr Helder.”

“Evening, Feynri. I won’t be long, sorry to disturb you.”

“Not at all, take as long as you need, ser.”

Feynri tottered off, candlestick in hand, and continued checking the enchantments in the corners of the building, humming softly as she worked. Vero smiled gently as she passed him, and headed towards the statues at the far back wall of the temple.

On either side of an ornate altar stood two large statues. On the left, a dark set of armour stood ominously, hands folded over the pommel of a pitted iron greatsword that was staked into the podium before it. On the right, a marble man with golden hair held a shield aloft before him, kneeling with his shield angled towards the snow-covered skylight above the altar. Vero placed several gold pieces in the donation box just behind the altar, and knelt before the statues.

“I hope this channel of communication is still amenable,” he thought, pushing his thoughts to form a connection with his deities.

 _“It is,”_ came the gruff response, and Vero saw a vision of blackened plate armour, followed by one of his prior companions, the man he still fondly referred to as Tyrion.

 _“Though it is unusual for you,”_ Tyrion stated. _“I admit some confusion as to why you did not approach us in your usual manner.”_

 _“I thought this setting more appropriate,”_ Vero responded. _“I wish to discuss the commitments I made in my Oath. There have been several years of peace since the fall of Brassaris, and my personal need for revenge has mellowed over the years. I admit that I no longer think myself worthy to carry an Oath of Vengeance into this new era.”_

 _“This does not surprise me.”_ The armoured Tyr’s voice was steady and deep, almost echoing in his empty metallic shell.

 _“Though your worthiness has never been in doubt, your ability to uphold such a vicious Oath has caused me some concern,”_ Tyrion admitted. _“However, it would be more concerning were you to abandon a faith you have upheld through such hardship.”_

 _“I do not intend to abandon either of you as my deities,”_ Vero assured the pair of gods. _“I simply wish to enquire as to whether it would be feasible for me to serve in a new way going forwards. While my drive for vengeance has brought me through much, I no longer believe I hold the same desire for revenge I did when I first forged my Oath.”_

 _“There **are** other paths,”_ came the grumbling response.

 _“Indeed. Perhaps your duty is no longer to seek vengeance for destruction, but to protect what has not yet been destroyed,”_ Tyrion mused.

 _“‘Tis an ancient vow,”_ said the armoured god, _“and not one to be undertaken lightly, though I am aware you are no stranger to hardship in following, Vero Helder.”_

 _“An Oath of knowledge, protection, and growth. A far lighter burden than the one you have carried thus far, my friend,”_ Tyrion said, a warm sensation tingling across Vero’s scalp as he did so.

“What is this Oath?”

 _“An Oath of the Ancients. Guardians of the Light, beacons of Hope in times of Darkness,”_ came the echoed answer. Though the armoured god was faceless, Vero could sense the caution with which he spoke. 

_“Those who kindle the Light of Hope, allowing others to grow in times of Despair,”_ Tyrion continued. _“Personally, I think it far more fitting for your new command. You have outgrown the anger you carried in youth. If we do not allow you growth then we, as your guides, are no better than those who seek to stifle the Light you seek to shelter.”_

_“Then what must I do? If I wish to prove myself worthy of such an Oath, I-”_

_“Vero, be calm,”_ Tyrion soothed, and Vero took a shuddering breath. _“You have done more than prove yourself. In your short life, you have committed more to our cause than some who live on far past your own years. It is on your shoulders our very faith was carried, and it would be my honour to allow you to recommit yourself in the fashion you see fit.”_

_“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my lords.”_

_“Do you, Vero Helder, vow to shelter the Light of Hope from the wicked who seek it’s extinguishment, to kindle the Light of Hope in the face of Darkness, and to embody the Light as a Beacon of Hope for those who seek enlightenment?”_ The rumbling echo of his god’s voice shook Vero to his soul, but he swallowed his nerves.

_“I, Vero Helder, shall shelter, kindle, and embody the Light of Hope. I vow to protect the Light in times of darkness and despair, and to share the Light with any who seek it.”_

_“Then it is my honour to declare your Oath renewed. Go forth, Green Knight, and take the Light to those in need,”_ Tyrion said, pride evident in his tone. A sudden warmth enveloped Vero, as his cloak tinged a deep forest green. Vines twisted around the Avenger’s hilt, and small flowers sprouted in the hems of his clothes.

 _“You have our blessings, Green Knight,”_ spoke a fading echo as the vision of his gods began to fade.

_“Thank you. I will not let you down.”_

When his vision faded, Vero took a heavy breath, and stood. Taking a last look at the statues, he smiled, before turning to leave.

“Good night, Feynri. I’ll come by tomorrow,” he said, waving to the young woman as he exited.

As he passed the temple of Mask, he noticed the coin he left was no longer present. He frowned, but continued on his way, pushing the notion to the back of his mind. 


End file.
